Even Heroes Die
by three miles away
Summary: "A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself." Joseph Campbell It was just suppose to be another Friday night. But things don't always go the way you think they should. Written in memory of the 12 lives lost in the CO theater shooting. Warning: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH.


**Written in memory of the 12 lives lost in the Colorado theater shooting on 7/20/12.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Common Law.**

**A/N: I haven't seen "The Dark Knight Rises" and I don't live in CO. I'm not using any of the victims names but some of the things that happen in this fic, happened in real life and some of the facts are real. No flames and please show some Respect.**

Even Heroes Die

_The brave die never, though they sleep in dust:  
Their courage nerves a thousand living men._  
- Minot J. Savage

Wes Mitchell always thought that his partner of 5 years Travis Marks would die in the line of duty. With his reckless state of mind and attack first attitude, it just seemed to be headed that way.

But even the most obvious things in life, aren't always what they seem.

The LAPD had just closed a major drug case and the department went out to celebrate that Friday night at a bar, but Wes and Travis had other plans. That night they were going to see the midnight premier of "The Dark Knight Rises", with about 100 other people. The theater was full and everyone was excited.

On their way to their seats, Travis came across a woman who smiled his way and sat in the row in front of him and Wes who ignored his partner and sat down in his chair. The lights dimmed and the screen played trailers for up coming movies.

"Did you see that girl, Wes?" Travis asked in a whisper. "She is fi-"

"Shh," Wes said looking at him before turning his head back to the screen. The movie started playing and everyone settled into their seats ready for a good time.

A few minutes into the movie the _EXIT_ door at the front of the theater suddenly burst open and a figure threw two cans into the crowd. A loud _BANG_ sounded with a flash and a thick smoke filled the air. The people didn't know what to expect, they were frozen in their seats. Voices were heard asking, "Is this part of the movie?" or "What's going on?", but Travis and Wes were on the edge of their seats.

Gun shots soon rang out and were followed closely by screams and the crowd fighting to get out. Travis automatically reached behind his back for his gun cursing inwardly at himself. They were off duty, and had no weapons.

Wes had apparently had come to the same conclusion and was now helping people towards the back of the theater, away from the gunman. In the rush, some people fell to the floor and were unable to get up in the madness. They were being stepped on, but didn't give up trying.

Wes dove into the fray and helped a young man to his feet, pushing him with the flow of the still screaming crowd. Travis was doing the same thing on the other side of the theater, helping out anyway he could, not worried about his own safety.

More shots sounded and the people screamed even more. Their arms flew above their heads, in an attempt to shield anything that could come their way.

Travis looked over his shoulder and cursed when he saw a few people huddled behind a row of seats, about 30 feet from the still shooting gunman. Getting low he made his way over to them, being careful as to not be seen.

He met them face to face by kneeling and spoke in a low voice, "Hey, you guys okay?" they didn't say anything. "I'm a cop, I'll help you guys get out of here. Alright?" he could tell that all three of them nodded, but barely. It was good enough for him.

He pushed them towards their right, away from the gunman and closer to an alis they met the wall. "Stay low, crawl on your hands and knees, but move as fast as you can." Travis told them. Without a moments hesitation, the teens moved swiftly and quietly. He smiled inwardly, but Travis knew there was still work to do.

Wes, meanwhile, was helping an older man up the alis when the man stopped shot and gasped before falling to the ground. A fresh bullet hole in his back. The detective dropped to the floor as wall, not from being afraid of getting hit with a spray of bullets that was coming his way, but from an overwhelming feeling of failure.

Peaking over the row of seats he was now behind, Wes saw a young couple stumble in the walkway and trip before falling to the ground. The gunman walked up to them and stopped short before raising his weapon and firing multiple shots at them. But before the bullets reached their intended targets, the young man threw his body over his girlfriends, taking all the shots that was meant for both of them.

When neither of them stirred, the gunman moved on. A few seconds later, the girl rolled from underneath her now dead boyfriend and began to crawl towards the doors. 20 feet away, Wes got up, but stayed low and helped the shaking woman the rest of the way.

They were almost to the doors when more shots met their ears and Wes picked up the girl in his arms before running the last few feet. Glancing over his shoulder one last time, he saw five more unfortunate people meet their sudden, tragic end.

Still carrying the woman, Wes made his way to the front of the building and onto the sidewalk, were hundreds of people stood, sat, or lay crying for their loved ones. Dozens of black and whites were already on the scene and a SWAT truck had just pulled up, ready to jump into action and end the madness.

Wes lay the now unconscious woman on a waiting gurney when he heard four loud shots come from inside the theater.

Adrenalin finally wearing off, Wes felt the corners of his eyesight begin to grow dark. His legs felt like led and a fiery sensation engulfed his right shoulder. He only had one thought on his mind before darkness overtook him completely.

Travis.

-xXx-

A steady beeping awoke Wes from his dreams. He tried to reach his nightstand to shut his alarm off, but found it very hard to move his arm. He groaned.

"I think he's coming around," he heard a voice say. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. He just wanted to go back to sleep. "Wes? Can you hear me?" there was that voice again.

"C'mon, Wes. Open your eyes." this one was deeper, but still held that familiarity in it. Maybe if he opened his eyes, they would go away.

So he did.

The first thing he saw was white. Lots of white. He was sure his room at the hotel hadn't under gone a new paint job, so he knew he wasn't there. The second them he noticed was the people by his bed. Captain Sutton and Dr. Ryan sat there with sad smiles on their faces. Was that a tear treating to run down the Cap's face?

His throat was dry, but he needed to know what happened. Glancing at the Captain, Wes sent a look to the older man that asked the question his voice would allow him to say.

"There was a shooting, Wes." the Captain started, knowing he wouldn't be able to lie about this one. "You were hit twice in the back of you shoulder that needed two surgeries to fix the artery they hit. You were out for three days."

Everything from that night came flooding back to him at once. The movie. The gunman entering. Shots being fired. Then... nothing. But he had to know.

"T-Travis?" it took him a lot of energy just to say that one name. Deep down in his heart, he knew something wasn't right. He just hoped he was wrong.

The captain sighed and hung his head while he ran a hand over his face. Dr. Ryan spoke up, knowing that Captain Sutton wouldn't be able to handle this moment.

"Wes," Emma said, "Travis didn't make it. He was shot twice in the chest," those words just slammed into Wes like a ton of bricks. He couldn't believe it. He _didn't_ believe it. He just lay there, not moving.

Growing up, he was always told that grown men didn't cry. That crying showed a sigh of weakness. But Wes saw it differently. Crying showed strength. It showed that you weren't scared of what people though of you. So Wes cried. Not just because he lost the best partner he could never ask for; but because he lost a friend.

A brother.

-xXx-

Three days later Wes was discharged from the hospital. Not because the doctors thought he was making good progress with his injuries, but because he would fight anyone and everyone who thought his laying in a hospital bed would cause him miss today's events.

And he let them know that.

Today was Travis' funeral and he didn't want to go. Wes would never admit that out loud, though. Going would mean that Travis wouldn't be coming back, and Wesley Mitchell would give anything to have Travis Marks come back.

Dressed in a black suit, no tie and black shoes, Wes walked towards the site where the funeral was being held. His arm in a sling, Wes took his seat at the very front of the tent, directly in the left of where the casket stood.

The preacher began to speak, but Wes didn't hear a word that was said. Memories flew in his mind from the first time he met Travis to the time when he pulled his gun on Travis to the moment leading up to their going to the movies. Everything seemed like a thousand years ago to him. Nothing seemed real.

When the preacher was done, a small crowd of detectives and officers from the LAPD and even the people from their group therapy made their way to the front and placed a yellow flower on Travis' casket. Going last Wes laid a white rose in the very middle, with a note tied to it by a silver string.

_A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself._

- Joseph Campbell

**Review by paying your respects. Thanks for reading.**


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